


A New Era Dawns

by TheLizardWriter



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Darkwing Duck Rises, Launchpad loves burritos more than life itself, M/M, More Drake anxieties..., drakepad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLizardWriter/pseuds/TheLizardWriter
Summary: After the Darkwing Duck movie is canceled, a new era of Darkwing Duck is blooming between two new friends





	A New Era Dawns

It was five o’clock in the morning and Drake Mallard was staring at a text on his phone that was hours old. It was only about twelve hours prior that his dreams came crumbling down around him. “There will _never_ be a Darkwing Duck movie!” Scrooge McDuck had declared, which translated to, “There will never be any meaning in Drake Mallard’s life.”

Or, well, that was how Drake had seen it. The sender of the text that Drake had yet to answer had seen it differently. “You know, you could do this for real,” he had said, sparking a desire in Drake that he hadn’t previously realized was lurking there to begin with. He _had_ modeled his whole life after his hero, so why couldn’t he _be _his hero? Launchpad believed in him, and he’d only just met him. So why was there a nagging suspicion in the back of Drake’s mind that, should he try, Duckberg would end up worse for wear. Or even worse, and Drake shuddered at the mere thought, what if he messed up and _Gizmoduck _would have to save _him_.

Drake wasn’t much in his own eyes, but in the eyes of this complete stranger, he could amount to something. Drake hadn’t ever known, well, anyone to believe in him that much. Sure, he did put on quite a show on the set, getting back up and fighting for right and all that. And he did do it while looking dashing in an upgraded version of the original Darkwing Duck outfit, a design on which he’d had some personal input himself, thank you very much. But still. He stared down at his phone, the soft glow casting a dark shadow across his tired face. 

Against the yellow of his beak, the white-blue light of his phone made him feel like he was in some alien world. Some alien world where Drake Mallard was of substance and random strangers thought he was... cool. “You know, you could do this for real,” echoed through his head again, bringing a smile across his beak. He still hadn’t the foggiest idea how to reply to the message which had been staring him down for hours though.

The text in question read, _Hey!!!! It’s Launchpad! Launchpad McQuack! The guy from the Darkwing Duck movie set! The one who fought for right with you! I have some ideas for Darkwing, so if you want, you could come over sometime and we can plan!_

Drake stared down at it again, reading over it over and over and over. There didn’t seem to be some malicious undertone of, “Hey, come to my house so I can tell you you’re really not the hero I thought” or “I can’t believe it’s your fault that our childhood hero was caught in an explosion.” Drake read over the text again, trying to find the hidden meaning in it. Why would someone who seemed to have it all - a family, friends, a job, confidence, a lack of crippling anxiety, passion for life --- Drake could go on, but his point was made. No one with that much to live for would actually want to associate with Drake… would he?

Drake read over it again. He played the day's events back in his head again. “You know, you could do this for real,” Launchpad had said, with such conviction too, but could he really? He had only succeeded in setting the entire set on fire, ruining the movie, killing his childhood hero, and ruining his lifelong dream.

“It’s one thing to play a hero, but it’s another thing to actually _be_ a hero,” Launchpad’s words came back to him. Maybe he could? He _had _kept everyone else from getting hurt, hadn’t he? Everyone, except his childhood hero, had walked away from the situation perfectly fine. He’d even managed to not have any of his classic “I wanna keep you in a big jar in my closet!” outbursts with his new friend, right? 

Drake re-read the text for the millionth time. Was there really nothing insinuating that Drake was ultimately a failure in his life? Was Launchpad really genuinely interested in being friends with Drake? Drake re-read the text again, this time, even getting so far as to open the text box at the bottom of the screen.

What would he say though? He couldn’t just ask, “This isn’t a prank, right?”. He couldn’t express how surprised he was that someone actually wanted to be in his presence, especially after the happenings of that day. He definitely couldn’t be himself in this situation. Drake Mallard was… not ideal. He was the type of guy that snuck into a friend group for all of two or three encounters before they went out of their way to hang out places that he didn’t. He was the type of guy that was so interested in knowing people that it came off as weird. He wasn’t the type of guy that was texted often.

Drake finally willed his fingers to start a message, but before he could even get two words in, he deleted it all, threw his phone across the room, and buried his fingers in the feathers on his head. What was he doing? Was there even a point in trying? Why did he feel like he was some sort of superhero? There would never be a Darkwing Duck movie, so Drake would never be Darkwing Duck. That was that. He couldn’t actually be a superhero! The only fighting he was proficient in was stage-fighting, although he could still probably take that robotic menace that thought he was helping Duckberg… That guy didn’t even have a cape! What kind of superhero did he think he was? Show-off…Gizmoduck aside though, Drake was not exactly the epitome of a superhero.

Then again, though, Darkwing Duck wasn’t exactly the epitome of a superhero either. He had no powers, he was always getting into trouble, he ended up breaking things more often than not, and he wasn’t exactly the picture of fitness. That sounded quite a lot like Drake, if he were to be completely honest. He was scrappy, and he was an outcast, but he was also brave, and he knew how to keep getting back up.

Get back up. That’s what he’d always done, right? Ever since he was a little kid and he first saw Darkwing Duck, he’d lived by those words. When he was bullied? He’d get back up, brushing the pain off and moving on. Every time he’d fail to be invited to something that it seemed everyone else was in attendance of? He’d get back up, ignoring the fact that it felt like he’d never be a part of anyone’s life but his own. Every time he was told that he just wasn’t right for a part? He got back up and tried out for the next one, until he landed his dream role. Now that he’d ruined even his dream role and left himself jobless, utterly alone, and pretty much completely defeated? He’d just have to get back up and fight for what was right, and it seemed only one other person really understood that.

Drake hopped off of his bed, snatching his phone up from where it had landed, it’s screen still on. He started typing before he could rationalize away his rush of confidence, _Hey Launchpad! My apologies for taking so long to answer. It’s been a long day,_ Drake began his text, ignoring how shaky his feathered fingers were as he typed, _I think that, with your help, we could make this thing actually happen… If you send me your address, we could maybe plan sometime tomorrow? If that doesn’t work though, no worries, I’m open all the time._

Drake took a deep breath, and hit the send button as quickly as he could force himself to, throwing his phone back down onto the plush, carpeted floor as soon as he had sent the message. He’d done it. It was up to the other duck now - Would they make history and create a real hero from a lasting legend? Or would Launchpad brush him away like every other person in Drake’s life ever had?

It felt like hours had passed with Drake standing over his phone before the screen lit up again, but when he checked the time, it was still only 5:20am, less than a minute after he’d sent his reply to the other duck’s text. If only he could have had the confidence to answer immediately - how he envied Launchpad for that.

_I don’t really have an address, but if you put McDuck Manor into your phone, you’ll find me!_ Drake’s beak dropped open as he read the first half of the text. Launchpad lived with Scrooge McDuck?! What had Drake gotten himself into? _I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’m free right now if your not too sleepy. _Drake fought tooth and nail to not correct Launchpad on his use of your. He didn’t want to come off as arrogant for liking proper grammar. All of that aside though, Drake didn’t know what to say.

Launchpad wanted to see him again so soon? Drake’s every limb was aching. Every step he felt was as painful as the electric shocks he had had to withstand earlier. His feet were killing him, bending any joint felt like he was going to crumble away, and even keeping his eyes open was a task of monumental strength, yet against all of that, Drake still longed to say yes to the duck he had only known for a few hours. 

This time, Drake was able to bring himself to answer after mere minutes. After all, time was of the essence - if he were to wait another twelve hours, Launchpad would have already gone to bed and woken up to go wherever he was off too the next day. 

_I live about fifteen minutes away. I’ll be there soon._ Drake sent his message, scooped up his Darkwing costume, and practically skipped down the stairs. Fifteen minutes was what it would take to get to the mansion if he were walking, but at the speed Drake was going, it took him half that until he was standing in front of the gates that he had passed by so many times in his life. He never imagined that he would end up standing in front of them to enter the mansion of the richest duck in the world.

_I’m here. How do I get in? _Drake texted Launchpad, glancing around rapidly, unable to stand still. He fought to still the shakiness of his hands, not wanting Launchpad to see him like that, but he only succeeded in making it a little worse. Only a couple seconds after he sent his text, the huge wrought iton gates began to swing open, groaning from the strain of movement. He took a half step forwards, paused, brought his foot back, and waited. Should he go in? Should he wait for Launchpad?

Drake took a couple steps forward, entering the land of the unknown. He had only made it about halfway up the monumental driveway before a limo came skidding to a stop alongside him. “Hop in!” Launchpad said, leaning across the console of the car to open the passenger door for Drake, “It’s a hike to the house!”

“Buh--” Drake was suddenly speechless. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but instead he just climbed into the car. “You--- I--- Darkwing---” Drake stumbled through the beginning of so many things he wanted to say, but eventually his mind settled on blurting out, “I’m honored that -- you live at McDuck Manor-- uhhh -- I can be Darkwing!”

“Me too!” Launchpad exclaimed, despite the fact that, once Drake realized what he said, he also realized it’d made no sense at all, whatsoever. Was Launchpad making fun of him?

In no time flat, they’d made it up to the formidable house.Drake stared up at the endless rooms above him, struggling to count them before Launchpad realized how impressed he was. So many rooms - all for one family, and there Drake was, living in a one bedroom apartment. He couldn’t help but gawk at the house, with its countless dark windows and its singular lit up room. Drake couldn’t help but wonder which one belonged to his new friend.

He hadn’t yet worked up the courage to ask Launchpad why he lived with the richest duck in the world before they got to the garage. “Here we are!” Launchpad exclaimed, “Home sweet home!” He pressed his garage opener, very nearly crashing into the garage door before it was even a third of the way open.  
Home sweet home, Launchpad had exclaimed, but Drake still was shocked when he saw that he’d really meant they were _there._ Within the garage was a little two-story apartment, complete with a hammock for sleeping and cute little fairy lights hanging around the frame. How could Launchpad live with the richest duck in the world, yet still live in a condition similar to the rest of the working class?

“This?” Drake asked, gesturing to the little room they were practically parked in. 

“Ahh, yeah, Mr. McDee was great enough to let me stay here for free! I even bought myself a TV!” Launchpad’s smile was as genuine as Drake’s rage.

“LET you stay here?!” Drake’s voice was a series of high pitched, borderline shrieks. “He’s the richest duck in the world! Can’t he put you up in a real home?”

“Well, after he found out I was living in the limo, on account of there were burrito wrappers all over the back-back seat, he told me I needed to live somewhere else. I offered to try the trunk, and he hand built me this little place! It’s only collapsed while I was sleeping once, but I rebuilt it! He gave it to me ‘For the time being,’ but I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, considering I’m a duck being, not a time being. So I’ve just been staying here until he arrives!” Launchpad wasn’t faltered in the slightest by Drake’s outburst, nor was he entirely in understanding of his living conditions - if what Drake gathered was true.

“Buh-” Drake’s words were lost in the abyss that was his mind. He was trying to figure out what exactly Launchpad was saying. He lived in the limo? He would have lived in the trunk? Neither of those were particularly shocking… It was just… He wasn’t upset about it. Drake could go to the store, have them be out of his favorite bubbly water, and he’d be upset for the rest of the day. Launchpad was living amidst the constant threat of carbon monoxide poisoning and he was _happy_?!

“So, since we work so well together, I was thinking that we could be partners?” Launchpad’s hands were clasped together in front of his face, his eyes wide as he stared at Drake. Did he really think Drake would say no? After all, if he were to have tried to save the movie set without the other duck, he would probably have many more burns that he already did. He wasn’t sure he’d have any feathers left, actually. Or.. life for that matter…

“Partners,” was all Drake managed to get out, but he couldn’t stop the goofy smile that grew across his beak. Never before had he ever heard someone _ask _him to be partners. His entire life, it was the opposite. In elementary school, it was, “Eww, Drakey is weird, he’s not allowed on my team.” In middle school it was, “Drake? The weird kid? No way!” In high school it evolved into, “Get the hell away from me, weirdo.” Even once he was going to acting classes, when the instructor told them to find partners, it felt like the distance between him and everyone else in the room nearly tripled. But tonight? Someone wanted to team up with Drake for something more important than kickball, school projects, or acting exercises, and that almost made up for all of his times of failing to find anyone.

“If that’s okay!” Launchpad’s words were light, each one creeping out as softly as a feather falling to the ground, floating down towards Drake so quietly that they might be blown away should the garage door open back up.

“It’s perfect!” Drake finally managed to say. His voice was coming back to him, imbued by the confidence that Launchpad’s words fed him, “In fact, I think we’ll be the best superhero combo, and while Gizmoduck doesn’t have a partner in the field, I doubt he made that armor himself, so we’re still not getting an advantage --- Even playing field and all that. So, you’ll need a costume too. Otherwise people will come after us when we’re out in public together. That is, as long as this isn’t just a solely business affair.” Drake paused to catch his breath, but unfortunately, that let his mind catch up with him too. He clasped a hand over his beak, wishing he could just eat the words back up, taking them where they couldn’t ever be heard in the first place. Had he really just outright asked Launchpad to be friends with him?

“Awesome Opossum!” Launchpad cheered, throwing a fist in the air in a celebratory fashion, “I think we need some snacks to celebrate the start of a new era!”

Drake cocked his head at Launchpad. Did this mean they were friends? Was Launchpad…. Was he immune to everything that was wrong with Drake? Drake couldn’t tear his eyes away from Launchpad as he rummaged through his fridge (Which strangely had a basketball hoop attached to it? Launchpad was taller than the fridge though, so it didn’t quite make sense to Drake…). He tried to tear his eyes away, not wanting to get caught staring, but there was just something about his new friend that captured not only Drake’s attention, his heart, and his thoughts, but something deeper within him. It was like Launchpad was already setting up shop in Drake’s soul – making a home for himself.

Launchpad emerged from his fridge digging to reveal a plate of…. Pizza rolls? Squished Raviolis? Drake couldn’t really tell, if he had to be honest. New friend though – He couldn’t be judgmental. “Launchpad McQuack’s world famous, homemade, mini burritos!” Launchpad practically yelled when he noticed the puzzled look on Drake’s face. Drake’s eyes went from the plate of… squished mock hors d’oeuvres to the banner of a burrito that Launchpad had loosely tacked on his wall. There were some… noticeable differences. He glanced down at the plate again, forced a smile across his beak and robotically said, “Mmm, Looks delicious.”

Launchpad didn’t seem bothered in the slightest though, grabbing a handful of them himself and stuffing his beak full, “Yeah, I worked on the recipe for houuuurs. Mrs. B told me that I couldn’t use the stove anymore, but I’m pretty sneaky. I waited for her to be asleep and snuck in! She didn’t even notice until the first fire started…” Drake tentatively lifted up one of them and popped it in his beak before he could begin to doubt his life choices up to this point all over again. It was… surprisingly not terrible. Drake wouldn’t go out of his way to order them at a restaurant, and he _surely_ wouldn’t call them world famous, but they were surprisingly not terrible.

“Delicious!” He sputtered out, this time managing to sound at least a little more convincing.

Launchpad placed the plate on the middle cushion of the couch, flopped down on one side, and gestured towards the other side for Drake. “Make yourself at home! My home is your home, or however that saying goes. Except I guess it’s not technically my _home _per se, it’s more of Mr. McDee’s home’s storage closet, which ended up being where I sleep!”

“I sorta sleep in a storage closet too,” Drake’s smile was genuine again. It was just, he was surprised that he had literally anything other than Darkwing in common with a man who was… somehow related to Scrooge McDuck (Or something? Drake wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, still. And he’d thought Launchpad had had a kid with him at the movie set?) “Not as literally as you, but I think my apartment is smaller than your living area here!”

“Woah, that must be rough! You’re pretty small though, so I’m sure it’s a little easier for you to hang out in small places – not that it’s enjoyable even then though.”

Drake flopped down on the couch, nearly knocking over the plate of ‘burritos’ in the process, but catching it last second, using his lightning fast reflexes that he was ever so proud of. “I’m not that small,” he countered, voice as small as his stature, “You’re just a giant.”

“Mr. McDee tries to argue that he’s not small too!” Launchpad took another handful of his creations, but he didn’t pause in his speech. Drake tried his very hardest not to flinch away from the possibility of food flakes flying at his face.

“At least I’m taller than the richest duck in the world,” Drake actually laughed, against all odds. At his old job (Which he’d definitely have to go back to, now that his acting gig was a bust), Drake couldn’t help but get snippy when people called him shorty, but with Launchpad, it didn’t feel like an attack at all.

“Being tall isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I hit my head on a doorframe this morning!” They both broke down into laughter, and Drake actually brought himself to grab a couple more of the snacks Launchpad had supplied.

“Being a movie star wasn’t all it was cracked up to be either,” Drake mumbled, playing the day’s events back in his head one more time. Even if his movie had failed though, it seemed like he was going to get something much more valuable than his big break out of it – happiness.

Launchpad’s smile faltered for only a micro-second, “Yeah, but that movie didn’t seem like it was really Darkwing Duck… Darkwing Duck fights for right, like you. In the trailer… Well…”

“Yeah, Boorswan didn’t really understand DW like you and I do,” Drake sighed, “But I was still playing my hero. Until I blew up the real deal and ruined the movie.”

“The movie isn’t happening, but you’re still Darkwing!” Launchpad reached over and clasped one giant hand over Drake’s shoulder, “So let’s get dangerous!” He flipped on the TV, which unsurprisingly already had a Darkwing tape in the VCR, and he said, “So, I was thinking with my mechanical skills, we can construct a working version of the RatCatcher. The Thunderquack might be a bit more difficult, but we can work together!”

Drake’s eyes lit up. When he envisioned them planning it out, he assumed it’d be more of, “Do we actually want to do this? No? Well, darn, we tried!” But no, it was full on planning mode.

After the first episode was over, the two ducks were on the floor, sprawled out amidst a pile of papers full of sketches. Drake had more of an eye for style, so he was sketching out what he wanted the “new and improved” versions to look like, while Launchpad sketched out actual speculations on blueprints (Drake hadn’t realized how mechanically minded the other was until they began). It wasn’t until Drake felt a hand on his shoulder again, shaking him awake, that he had realized he’d fallen asleep.

“Drake! You fell asleep, and I figured it might be time to---” Drake’s eyes were wide, he couldn’t believe his faux pas.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted, cringing internally even further at the fact that he had interrupted Launchpad’s sentence. Once he was started though, it was hard to stop, “I’ll escort myself out now, that is if you tell me how to open the gates, I mean I should really get going so you’re not bothered by me anymore, y’know?”

“You don’t have to go! I just wanted to let you know that you could go upstairs and sleep, so we can keep planning tomorrow before Mr. McDee and the boys and I go out for our next adventure! It’s been forever of a day, and you don’t need to go home just to come back later. It’s a sleepover!” Launchpad’s gaze, staring down at Drake, filled him with something he wasn’t used to feeling. It was the kind of comfort that Darkwing gave Drake, yet it had more of a warmth to it that he couldn’t quite place.

“A sleepover,” Drake mumbled, “Never had one of those before.”

If it seemed like Launchpad was easily excited before, Drake wasn’t at all prepared for how excited that statement had made his new friend. “Oh man! We’re gonna have tons and tons and tons to make up for all the ones you haven’t had yet! You’ll have to come one of the nights that the boys and Webby and I have movie night! I make a whole blanket fort down here and they loooove it, even if they say they’re too old for it. Joke’s on them, you’re never to old for fun!”

Drake, still in his sleepy stupor, just nodded and mumbled, “You mean you want me to come again?”

“Well of course!” Launchpad replied, and Drake was honestly surprised that his beak hadn’t already split in half from the force of the smile that was painted across it. “We’re partners now! What kind of superhero partners aren’t buddies?”

“I guess you’ve got a point,” Drake could feel his own smile stretching across his beak – a feeling he didn’t genuinely get to feel too frequently. He moved to stand up, but realized that… “Well, there’s just one problem,” he mumbled, and he could feel his cheeks heating up, the feathers on them bristling up the slightest bit with the blush.

“What’s wrong?” Launchpad immediately asked, the words fighting to get out of his mouth faster than seemed possible.

“It, uhh, seems the fight took more out of me than anticipated,” Drake mumbled, scratching the back of his head, “I don’t think I can get back up right now, so I’ll just, uhh, sleep here on the floor?”

Launchpad shook his head and replied with a stern, “No way am I letting that happen, mister!” Drake was about to ask what else Launchpad proposed then, in this snippy way he was ever so used to hearing come out of his own beak, but instead, he was answered by the larger duck scooping him up as if he weighed nothing. “Let’s get you to bed,” Launchpad said, grinning down at Drake as he carried him up the stairs to the upper floor of the makeshift room.

Drake could feel his heart beating at a million miles a minute as he felt the warmth of the larger duck engulf him. He would have been mad at his heart for betraying him if not for one reason – he could feel that Launchpad’s heart was beating just as fast.

As Launchpad settled Drake into the hammock, Drake managed to squeak out a, “Thank you… For… Y’know.... Everything… You don’t hate me.”

The last words he heard before he slipped back into sleep were, “Anyone who hates you is wrong. Goodnight, Drake.” For once in his life, Drake had happy dreams. Dreams of fighting crime, of making friends, and most importantly, dreams of having… someone in his life.


End file.
